Present Perfect
by Helga Von Nutwimple
Summary: You can't always get what you want... unless, of course, you're drinking with a vengeance demon. However, Buffy soon discovers that perfection carries a heavy price. Wildly AU after 'Tabula Rasa'.
1. A Dream Is A Wish Your Heart Makes

_A/N: This is in response to Kantayra's "Practically Perfect In Every Way" challenge, which I was first exposed to by Speaker-To-Customer's brilliant fic "It's Got To Be Perfect". Which you should read, here: (http:www.speaker-to-customers.me.uk/buffyverse/fiction.htm).  
  
Anyway, it looked like so much fun, I wanted to play. Challenge rules appear at bottom.  
  
_--------------------------------------------------------------------  
--------------------------------------------------------------------  
  
Sunnydale, California  
In The Time Once Known As Season Six  
  
A perfectly timed punch of stunning strength shot out into the darkness, and yet another alarm clock belonging to Buffy Summers met its final rest.  
  
Buffy rolled into a sitting position with a low moan, not sure which protesting body part to clutch first. Her head was pounding, her mouth had never felt so fuzzy and foul, her legs ached, her side seemed split in two...  
  
And with a sudden flash, she remembered who was to blame.  
  
Spike.  
  
And, to some extent, Willow.  
  
But mostly Spike.  
  
Memories careened through her already throbbing head. That idiotic shark-headed demon. Saving Spike's worthless unlife, yet again. Giles' horrifying announcement. And then that stupid spell that had made them all forget that they were being attacked because of... what a shock, _Spike's_ stupidity. And greed! Don't forget the greed!  
  
Stupid _kitten_ greed.  
  
Thinking she was _Joan_, getting thrashed by a pack of vampires she could have taken out easily _normally_... one of them had kicked her in the ribs, which explained at least one of the sources of pain.  
  
And then, the Bronze, trying to drink herself into numbness vis-a-vis Giles The Great Abandoner, Spike coming up to her with the gall to look all wounded and big-blue-eyed, pouting off when she'd turned her back on him, like he didn't eat babies and he had a soul to be struck in...  
  
Oh. And then. Oh.  
  
That damnable speech he'd given her, when he'd caught up with her next to the stairs. That out-of-nowhere, stupid, cheesy speech about Giles and the situation and coming back from the dead and how she should take it as a compliment, how Giles obviously thought she was so strong, blah blah blah...

... And how _incredibly_ drunk had she already been to have been unable to look at _anything_ but the oh-so-fake-cause-he's-a-vampire-hello sincerity in his eyes, the tenderness with which he'd touched her face...  
  
And the moment he touched her, she'd suddenly remembered how he'd acted under the spell... assuming he was human, then assuming he must have a soul. Angel had always told her that 'game face' was a vampire's true face, that the other one was a mask...  
  
So why had Spike woken up in his human one? Why hadn't he immediately known he was a demon? Why had he been as scared of vampires as the rest of them? Why had he had no desire to do evil other than to taunt his "dad" about his penismobile?  
  
Alcohol was of the bad, obviously, leading to Deep Philosophical Thoughts of the Way Lame.  
  
Which _totally_ explained why she'd suddenly kissed him, even though that was so _not_ the plan, totally explained why she'd ended up clutching that stupid smelly I-wish-I-was-Neo-from-the-Matrix leather coat in both fists like she'd die if he moved back from her an inch, totally explained why he'd had to hold her up because her knees had turned to jelly and where did he learn to kiss like that, anyway?  
  
Not that it mattered, because she was _never never ever_ kissing his stupid smirky obnoxious evil self ever again, unless she had to for some really good reason, like making him shut up or, y'know, averting an apocalypse.  
  
Fortunately, after a short time -- the band had played a few songs, taken a break and come back and played some more, yeah, but they were _really short_ songs -- she'd come to her senses, kneed him in the groin, and let fly a few of her wittier insults, whereupon he'd stalked away all blah-blah-blah with insults that were _much_ less witty. So there.  
  
And then she'd gotten even _more_ drunk, which explained the headache and the fuzzies, sitting next to that nice brunette lady with the pretty necklace who'd been so willing to listen to her pour it all out, all her frustrations about everything.  
  
Such a good listener. Like Spike had been, before that stupid dancy Sweet demon had choreographed her into his arms and given stupid obsessive Spike a bone to sink his stalkery, fangy teeth into.  
  
Buffy let out a full-body shudder at the memory.  
  
Well, she couldn't just sit here being disgusted; there was a reason her alarm had gone off so early. Today was hunt-a-real-job-be-a-grownup day, and oh _boy_, wasn't she excited about _that_.  
  
_Please_, let there not be any mummy hands.  
  
"Honey! You're going to be late if you don't hurry up!"  
  
Buffy had reflexed halfway into the lean-head-back-and-whine-out-a-denial maneuver before her eyes bugged out of her head.  
  
"Mom?" she whispered.  
  
"Honey, you're going to miss breakfast... Dawn, put that _down_, I made real food with protein, you are _not_ eating dry Froot Loops... did you even wash your hands before you stuck them in that box?"  
  
Buffy's heard Dawn's whine of protest, the sound of a door slamming, her mother's patented snort of annoyance...  
  
... and an answering low murmur she'd know anywhere.  
  
Giles.  
  
She was still asleep. Had to be. She'd gone to bed missing Giles and had a dream where all the people she missed were in the kitchen...  
  
So what was she doing wasting a dream this good?  
  
Buffy threw on clothing haphazardly and galloped down the stairs, throwing her arms around her mother's waist.  
  
"Well, good _morning_, honey," Joyce laughed in surprise, patting Buffy's head. "I see _someone's_ feeling better."  
  
Giles polished his glasses. "She certainly does seem to have made a full recovery."  
  
"Huh?"  
  
"Well, to be quite frank, as bad off as you've been, we weren't expecting such speedy progress. I must say, Willow's antidote has exceeded expectations."  
  
"Antidote? Huh?"  
  
"You had a nasty run-in with a Glarghk Guhl Kashma'nik, dear. You've been hallucinating for several days."  
  
"I have?"  
  
Giles smiled reassuringly at Joyce. "Some amnesia is probably to be expected. Buffy, what is the last thing you remember?"  
  
"I, uh..." She really didn't want to share the drunkenness and Spike-kissage. "Well, Willow did that spell on us, made us all forget who we were."  
  
Joyce's eyes widened and she shot a glance at Giles, who shook his head.  
  
"Buffy, the venom you were exposed to creates hallucinations, constructs a sort of... internal alternate universe. Because this universe is constructed of your own memories and fears, it seems very familiar and real. It's very likely that your mind, struggling to understand what was happening to it, created a story where your memory loss was one of Willow's spells gone wrong." Giles let out a little chuckle. "You would certainly have many memories to support that conclusion."  
  
"So... that didn't happen? The spell?"  
  
"I assure you it did not."  
  
"What about... what about the singy demon?"  
  
Joyce choked on her coffee. "Singy demon?"  
  
"The... singing and dancing demon, who made us all be in a musical..."  
  
Joyce and Giles were sharing rather wicked grins.  
  
"I must say, Buffy, it certainly sounds like your alternate universe was an interesting one."  
  
Well. So she'd only kissed Spike in an alternate universe made up of her worst fears; _that_ made sense, but...  
  
Wait a minute.  
  
Buffy shook her head. "No. No. I'm dreaming. Mom, you're... you're not here."  
  
"I beg to differ," Joyce laughed.  
  
"No, Mom... you're dead. I'm asleep."  
  
"Dead?"  
  
"The alternate universe is made up of memories _and fears_, darling," Giles pointed out. "I think Buffy may have..."  
  
"Whoa-whoa. Did you just call Mom _darling_?"  
  
"Well, yes..."  
  
"Wanna explain _why_?"  
  
"Well, ah... I've been calling her that for a long time, Buffy..."  
  
"A long time?" Buffy crossed her arms and glared. "How long is a long time?"  
  
"Well... since well before we were married, I suppose..."  
  
"_Married_?"  
  
Giles sighed. "Buffy, perhaps we ought to get you to a doctor. I expected temporary amnesia for the events surrounding your attack, but amnesia on _this_ level..."  
  
"No... no! No doctors. Look, I'm sorry I brought any of this up, I just want to enjoy my dream, okay? Having you both here... even married, which is way-mondo-freaky... is really great. You don't know how great. I just wanna bask, okay? I'm shutting up and basking now."  
  
She heard the front door bang, footsteps in the hallway... and a very familiar British accent.  
  
"Sorry I'm late... Nibblet ready?"  
  
Buffy whirled.  
  
It was Spike... and so totally _not_ Spike.  
  
His hair was longer than she'd ever seen it, a riot of two-toned curls. His duster was gone, his jeans were blue, and his t-shirt, while properly black, showed off not only the incredibly well-defined arms she'd never admit to lusting over...  
  
It also showed off his healthy summer tan.  
  
The _hell_?  
  
"Hey, Slayer, nice to see you're up n' about," Spike said casually, tossing a suede backpack onto the couch. "Where's her Nibs? She's gonna be late."  
  
"Dawn's having a teenage moment," Joyce grinned. "You want breakfast while you wait? It could be awhile."  
  
"Have I _ever_ turned down your cooking?" Spike grinned, giving Joyce a kiss on the cheek and looking at Giles' mug with a raised eyebrow. "Any more of that coffee, Dad?"  
  
"What kind of dream _is_ this?" Buffy shrieked.  
  
--------------------------------------------------------------------  
--------------------------------------------------------------------  
  
Challenge Rules  
  
"Practically Perfect In Every Way" by Kantayra  
  
Requirements:  
  
Setting: Any time post-Crush.  
Pairing: B/S...although they need not end up together. You can tack on a potential S/Other pairing to increase the drama if you want, but the focus should be primarily B/S.  
Length: Whatever you want, but it'll probably have to be a longer fic to get in all the story requirements.  
  
Basic Plot Elements:  
  
1. Buffy's been annoyed by Spike's advances lately and comments off-handedly something along the lines of "Everything would just be so much easier if he didn't love me."  
2. The person she makes this statement to is willing to grant her a romantic wish. (This person could be a vengeance demon or something else.)  
3. Buffy's wish is to make Spike the perfect man for her to love. She has to list off a whole bunch of things that she doesn't like about him (smoking, leather, bleach, sarcasm, vampireness, the crypt (if it's S5 or S6) - whatever; let her go crazy about things she'd change about him). She makes her wish, conveniently forgetting about the earlier I-don't-want-him-to-love-me part.  
4. Spike's changed! Everything that Buffy complained about has been fixed. One thing in particular - he has to be a really big hit with her friends now: Xander's best buddy, helping Willow with the magic, Giles with the research. Everyone loves him; he's one of the gang.  
5. Buffy falls in love with him. Only, when she tries to kiss him - whoops! - it turns out that he-doesn't-love-her part has come true as well. I want to see Spike give Buffy the "let's be friends" speech. Make it good.  
6. Now rejected, Buffy slowly comes to realize that, hey, she doesn't like a lot of other things she changed about him quite so much, either. In fact, she misses the real Spike. The message here: don't try to change the person you love.  
7. The ending's entirely up to you. Does Buffy get to take her wish back and get a happy ending? Or is she stuck with what she's got and it becomes major angst? Or something completely different altogether?  
  
Extras:  
  
1. Give New!And!Improved!Spike an ultra-posh apartment complete with one of those huge, round beds. Buffy should be damn awed by the apartment.  
2. New!And!Improved!Spike criticizing Buffy for doing something that used to be one of the 'bad' habits of his that she removed.  
3. A game of pool. Preferrably with Xander involved.  
4. Buffy gets jealous of the fact that New!And!Improved!Spike is a better friend to the Scoobies than she is.  
5. Giles in neon-colored socks. There must be a reasonable explanation for this one.  
6. As much humor as you can manage - especially in showing how Spike's changed.


	2. When You're Fast Asleep

There were certain things in the universe that just shouldn't happen.  
  
This moment ranked _very_ high on the list.  
  
It was noon, blindingly bright, her ears ringing with Ricky Martin, microwave pings, and snippets of conversation. She was standing in line at a Subway, watching Spike instruct the "sandwich artist" on which toppings he wanted.  
  
On his Veggie Delite.  
  
In this Bizarro World she'd suddenly stumbled into, William the Bloody was a _vegan_.  
  
A tanned, laid-back, curly-headed vegan who had blasted Radiohead from the CD player of his olive green, 1978 International Harvester Scout. A 1978 International Harvester Scout, she should mention, that he had donned small, black-rimmed, nerddom-is-in little emo glasses to drive. A drive, she should mention, during which he had _calmly_ and _nicely_ called out gear numbers, allowing Dawn to work the stick-shift from the passenger seat.  
  
Apparently, William the Bloody was teaching her little sister to drive.  
  
Or just _Will_. That was what everyone had called him. Dawn, her mom, Giles... and then all Dawn's little school-friends, who'd pronounced it _Wiiiiiiiiiiiill_, heavy on the breathy, who'd been waiting at the curb when they'd pulled up to the school, clumped-up and compulsively giggling, their eyes flicking up and down Spike in a way that had totally failed to register on him.  
  
Joyce and Giles had thought it would be a good idea for Buffy to go along with Spike today. Joyce and Giles had thought she would benefit from talking to him.  
  
Because in Bizarro World, Spike was getting his doctorate in psychology.  
  
"Buffy? Hey, Buffy? Earth to Buffy?"  
  
"Huh? I'm sorry, what?"  
  
Spike smiled. "Was askin' if you wanted to take these outside. Pretty day n' all."  
  
"Oh! Sure. Sure, yeah... outside, in the, the sunlight. Sure, Spike."  
  
He held the door open for her, grinning. "Wow... haven't heard_ that_ one in a long time."  
  
Buffy clutched her sack of sandwich, eyebrows raised. "Nobody calls you Spike anymore?"  
  
"Got phased out, I guess," Spike shrugged, heading over to one of the yellow tables. "Don't really call Oz 'Snoopy' anymore, either, so..."  
  
"Huh?"  
  
"Y'know. Snoopy. Spike."  
  
"And again I say -- huh?"  
  
Spike sighed a little, plopping down on the metal bench and unwrapping his food. "Kind of a stupid joke, I guess. Oz's such a cute little werewolf, started callin' him Snoopy, he started callin' me Spike... that's Snoopy's brother, I dunno if you read Peanuts... anyway, ha-ha-ha but... judgin' by your face, apparently not so much."  
  
At Buffy's blank expression, Spike changed tactics. "So, this 'alternate reality' you were in... you wanna talk about it? Bit confused that you're up on your obscure appelations but not the fact that I'm your stepbrother."  
  
"_Stepbrother_?"  
  
"My dad? Your mom?" Spike took a sip of his Diet Coke. "Five years ago? Death do they part, I do, I do, et cetera?"  
  
"I, uh... wow, um, I guess it just didn't compute."  
  
"Take it they weren't married in alterna-world. Dad still your Watcher there?"  
  
"He was my Watcher, yeah, but... not your Dad."  
  
Spike's eyebrows raised. "Oh? Was I even there?"  
  
"You were there... just... just not related to Giles."  
  
"Look, Buffy, maybe it would help if you told me about this other place you were. I mean, your mind constructed it, right? Be interestin'. Besides, I can fill you in, help you get along 'til your memory comes back."  
  
"I don't really..."  
  
"I _know_ you think you're asleep and dreamin' this. So -- humor me. If it's a dream, what's it gonna hurt to tell me, right?"  
  
Buffy picked at her chips. "I guess..."  
  
"So... you were still the Slayer?"  
  
"Oh, yeah."  
  
"Scooby Gang all present n' accounted for? Red and Oz, Xan and Anya, Tara, me, the Nibblet?"  
  
"Uh. You weren't... you weren't exactly a Scooby, and Oz... Oz was gone."  
  
"No Oz? Red must have been goin' nuts."  
  
"Well... Willow was... I mean, she went kind of nuts when he left, but then she started dating Tara..."  
  
Spike spit Diet Coke all over the table. "_What_?"  
  
"Um... Willow and Tara... I'm guessing they're not, uh, together here?"  
  
"Uh, _no_." Spike brightened at a sudden thought. "Don't suppose you've chucked Captain Cardboard in this other world, eh?"  
  
"Captain... you mean _Riley_? I'm still dating _Riley_ here?"  
  
"More's the pity, yeah."  
  
"Well... in the... the other world, we broke up. You didn't like him there, either. Actually, you were kind of instrumental in the break-uppage."  
  
Spike raised an eyebrow. "Oh, yeah? What'd I do? Testicular injury involved? _Please_ tell me I did unto him as I did unto that git Parker."  
  
"W-what'd you do to Parker?"  
  
Spike grinned at the memory. "Nothin' that a short stay in hospital didn't mostly cure."  
  
"You put Parker in the _hospital_?"  
  
"Well, Xander helped," Spike said innocently.  
  
"W-why?"  
  
"You mean, _besides_ him bein' a wretched git who deflowered my little sister, treated her like dirt, an' tried the same routine on Xan's girlfriend the next day? Oh, _no_ reason."  
  
_My little sister?_  
  
Whoa-whoa-whoa.  
  
_Deflowered?_  
  
"Parker, um. He, uh. He... _deflowered_ me?"  
  
"Gave him a miss in Bizarro World, eh? Good on you."  
  
"Um... Spike... I mean, um, Will... what about... Angel?"  
  
Spike took another sip. "Who?"  
  
"Angel? Y'know, uh... Captain Forehead? Peaches?"  
  
Spike looked at her blankly.  
  
"The vampire with a soul?"  
  
"Vampire with a... you mean _Angelus_? What's he got to do with peaches?"  
  
Ice suddenly ran down Buffy's spine. "He's _Angelus_ here?"  
  
"He's not Angelus _anywhere_ anymore. You mean _Angelus_ was in your head-world? Damn, Buffy, Dad'd be proud. He thinks you never do research."  
  
"What do you mean... he's not... anywhere anymore?"  
  
Spike shot her a strange look. "Angelus was killed over a century ago. Dusted by the Slayer... during the Boxer Rebellion, if I remember right."


	3. In Dreams You Lose Your Heartaches

A/N: Some background 'Fanged Four' info taken from the comic books, like the name of the Slayer Spike killed during the rebellion. You'll wring more enjoyment from this chapter if you noticed something in "Lies My Parents Told Me".  
  
_--------------------------------------  
  
ANGELUS (The Dark Soul) 1727-1900  
Bloodline: Aurelian  
  
Born Liam O'Connor in Galway, Ireland 1727. Turned by DARLA (1585-1977) in 1753. Killed 1900 in Bejing, China by the Slayer Xin Rong. Together with Darla and his childe DRUSILLA (1860-1977), formed one-third of THE SCOURGE OF EUROPE. Reports suggest that Angelus' first act upon rising was the slaughter of his family and entire village, beginning an unlife marked by...  
  
_Buffy's hands shook, and she turned to the page for Drusilla, already expecting what she would find.  
  
_DRUSILLA (1860-1977)  
Bloodline: Aurelian  
  
Born Mary White in London, England 1860. Turned by ANGELUS (1727-1900) in 1880. Killed 1977 in New York City, The United States by the Slayer Nikki Wood...  
  
_Buffy shut the book with a loud thump that made Spike and Giles startle in unison.  
  
There had, of course, been no entry for either "Spike" or "William the Bloody".  
  
"Did you find what you were looking for, Buffy?" Giles asked, shutting the cash register.  
  
"Uh-huh..."  
  
"I must say, that's fascinating... I know the human mind is more Will's specialty than mine, but I suppose your temporary death at the hands of the Master had more of an effect on you than we had previously surmised... our research into the Scourge as his possible reanimators was so very brief."  
  
"Nikki Wood. The Slayer that killed Darla and Drusilla. How'd... how'd she die?"  
  
"Ah, that _was_ a tragic story. She was one of the only Slayers to have a child, you know. They were both killed in a car accident a few days after her Slaying of Darla and Drusilla. She was the original owner of that coat you wear occasionally."  
  
"The coat... the coat _I_ wear?"  
  
"That horrible I-wish-I-was-Neo-from-the-Matrix leather duster thing," Spike shuddered. "You oughta just give it to Andrew already, he begs you for it every time you wear it."  
  
"It's a _heirloom_ from her Slayer ancestor," Giles said sternly, glaring at Spike.  
  
"It's bloody _hideous_ and don't get me _started_ on wearin' leather," Spike replied.  
  
"When I want to listen to one of your diatribes about the leather industry, Will, I'll..." Giles paused. "I'll _never_ want to listen to one of your diatribes about the leather industry."  
  
"It's disgustin', it's cruel, it's unnecessary, it's..."  
  
Spike held up fingers as he ticked off reasons, and Buffy's mind suddenly flashed: _Out. For. A. Walk... Bitch._  
  
"You know, son, you're really _quite_ the hypocrite. How you can fret over the plight of the mink and turn into this bloodthirsty killing machine when confronted with a demon..."  
  
"Demons are evil," Spike shrugged. "Besides, they can defend themselves. What chance has a mink got, eh?"  
  
"You say demons are evil, and yet you don't have a problem around..."  
  
"That's _different_!" Spike spat, leaping to his feet.  
  
Buffy's eyebrows soared in Spike's direction. "You turn into a bloodthirsty killing machine around demons?"  
  
"I swear, the boy has multiple personality disorder," Giles groaned.  
  
"It's _'Dissociative Identity Disorder'_, Dad, they haven't called it MPD for years..."  
  
"Remind me again why I sent you to college?"  
  
Spike grinned. "So I could annoy you more eruditely?"  
  
"Truly that _must_ have been my plan," Giles sighed long-sufferingly, polishing his glasses.  
  
Spike glanced at his watch. "Slayer, you feel up to your class tonight?"  
  
She startled. "C-class?"  
  
"Your lit class starts in about twenty minutes. If we leave now, you'd make it."  
  
"I'm still in school?"  
  
"Technically," Spike smirked. "Although the way you skip class..."  
  
"Class! Yeah! Class sounds... normal. Let's... go to class."  
  
"All right. Gotta run by the house and get your books... see you later, Dad."  
  
Buffy froze suddenly. "Um, Sp... I mean, Will?"  
  
"Yeah?"  
  
"Uh... what's my major?"  
  
_--------------------------------------_  
  
"Doctor William Withey Gull -- alias Jack the Ripper -- was responsible for the deaths of nearly fifty women before his death of natural causes in 1895. After his death, documents were found in his possession..."  
  
Buffy wasn't listening. She hadn't read the book they were discussing -- hadn't even _heard_ of the book, like, ever. She'd thought she knew a little bit about Jack the Ripper from that Johnny Depp movie... like that he'd killed a heckuva lot less people, for one... but none of it was matching up with what her classmates or the teacher were saying...  
  
So, she'd gone for the patented Buffy Summers chew-on-pencil-and-look-thoughtful routine. Actually, fall-asleep-in-the-middle-of-class was more her patented routine, second only to the stare-at-hot-TA routine, but the TA for this class was, like, the Anti-Riley, all short and skinny and no-muscley.  
  
Riley.  
  
Riley, who was still her boyfriend.  
  
Argh-a-larg-larg.  
  
The longer this dream lasted, the more uberfreaked Buffy was getting.  
  
_Lesson the Second: Ask the right questions.  
  
_A tiny thrill shot through Buffy's stomach as she remembered that night, fighting Spike... well, it wasn't much of a fight, he'd been pulling punches not to set off the chip, but... oh, the dark whiskey of his voice, the way he'd looked at her, the step he'd taken towards her and the second it had taken for her to remember that he was evil and not letting vampires kiss her was an important thing she ought to be doing... the way he'd said "one good day" as if it was the most erotic proposition in the world and not, y'know, killing her...  
  
Ask the right questions.  
  
Buffy suspected she hadn't been doing that... but it was so hard to ask without revealing why she was asking. Sure, it was a dream, just a dream she'd be waking up from any minute now... but she didn't want to ruin it.  
  
This world... this amazing world, where not only was her mother still alive, but Giles was really, truly her father... well, stepdad, whatever. A world where nobody _left_... not Mom, not Giles, not Oz, not Riley... hey, not even Angel, not really.  
  
_That_ sucked, of course. Who'd had any idea that Spike had inadvertently saved Angel's life all those years ago? And it kind of made sense; Angel'd already had his soul then, hadn't even been able to kill to please Darla, he'd have been in no condition to take on a Slayer, especially one that didn't speak English and he could never explain about the soul to...  
  
But it wasn't like Angel was _really_ gone, anyway, 'cause this was just a dream... a _wonderful_ dream, like a vacation from the utter crap that was her life.  
  
A world where her Mom was still alive. A world where full copper re-pipe was something for her Mom and Giles to handle, a world where she was still in school, a world where Dawn actually smiled and laughed and didn't walk around with that haunted look on her face on the time...  
  
Spike being her stepbrother... _that_ was weird. She guessed her brain had dreamed it up from that stupid spell Willow'd cast. And he was so _different_, even beyond being human... he was sarcastic, but like... Oz kind of sarcastic, Xander kind of sarcastic, that you're-in-on-the-joke-too kind of sarcastic, instead of his normal, lashing-outy, I'll-reject-you-before-you-can-reject-me kind of...  
  
Whoa-whoa-whoa. Was she having Spike _epiphanies_ now? Must be from hanging around his weirdo Master's-degree-having Bizarro Self.  
  
And what a Bizarro Self he was... like a car wreck she couldn't look away from. He looked the same, mostly; the tan was beyond weird, and when he laughed, little crinklies had appeared around his eyes, which weren't quite so startlingly blue without that oh-so-pale skin to contrast with. He even _laughed_ different -- when did he get _dimples_, hello?  
  
And his hair -- she'd suspected it was naturally curly after their horrible Winnebago road trip, when he'd been unable to gel it into submission, but now... wow, it was just this curly nest of curly craziness. The peroxide had been pushed to the tips, the dark brown she supposed was his natural color following, and it looked...  
  
Oh, _fine_. It looked soft and rumply and sexy and wonderful on him, and she'd really wanted to run her fingers through it, grab a handful, pull him down towards her...  
  
Not to mention that -- now that he had body heat -- Spike was like this good-smell incense burner, just wafting hot smell-of-Spike all over the place with _no_ consideration for what it did to her neurons at all. Not to mention that instead of being cut with tobacco reek, the essence-of-Spike was mixing with some kind of faint but yummygood cologne and just a little bit of boysweat.  
  
He'd suggested a walk after they'd finished lunch, still asking her questions about The Real World and making mmm-hmm little noises like everything she said was terribly, terribly interesting... even though it had been really, really hard to make with the words when she was still utterly shocked by the sight of him in the sunshine, still freaked by the non-tightness of his t-shirt, the blue of his jeans, and the whole freakish sneaker-wearing of him.  
  
He'd stopped at a fruit stand, buying two peaches and tossing her one... and she'd been unable to tear her eyes from him as he'd eaten his, watching his teeth sink into the sweet flesh, juice dribbling down his chin, juice he'd totally wasted by casually brushing it away with one lean, tanned wrist, and she'd been unable to think of anything but that kiss at the Bronze, how it had felt as she'd clung to him, how much more amazing it might have felt to have heard his heart racing against her own, to feel his breath on her face, to have been burned by the heat of him, to taste peach juice on his lips as he devoured her, the sunlight warming them both as her arms wrapped around his neck and pulled him closer...  
  
Urgh! Bad Buffy! Bad thoughts! Bad, bad, bad!  
  
But seriously, how fair was it that in her Dream Vacation, Spike would be all human and soul-having and therefore totally, no-shame kinds of kissable... and _related_? I mean, how perfect would this dream have been if she could have knocked him down in the grass, covered him with kisses, felt that amazing body arch against her, more of those soft little noises he'd made in the Bronze coming from his throat, that lovely corded throat with that Adam's apple that really _required_ her lips on it, and she could pull that too-baggy t-shirt off his head, so silly to hide a body like that, and...  
  
Urgh!  
  
But really, a stepbrother wasn't like a _brother_, a _brother_ was related by blood, and yeah, it was a little Jerry Springery but not terribly horrible, I mean, it wasn't like he was totally _off-limits_...  
  
_He needs to just realize that I am totally off-limits... it's like the fact that he's a vampire and I'm the Slayer just isn't enough for him, y'know? Need boundaries. Gotta respect the boundaries.  
  
_Buffy blinked, suddenly, as fragments of her own alcohol-blurred words at the Bronze came back to her.  
  
_I don't want Giles to go. Why aren't I enough to keep him here? I need him! Y'know, I wish stupid old Spike really _was_ his son, he wouldn't leave if his _son_ were here, and why would he leave _me_? I'm like his daughter, I wish I _were_ his daughter, then maybe he'd stay, only that would be weird, but... why does everyone always _leave _me? I want Mom back, I miss... you know who I miss? I miss Oz. I know, I know, Willow loves Tara, but sometimes... I just wish things had worked out differently, y'know? I miss Oz, and Will and Tara aren't getting along, and this whole magic problem of Will's... I don't think that would have happened if she were still with Oz. I just... I wish Will could still be with Oz and Tara could be with someone nice too, I don't want to get rid of Tara, I love Tara, I'd want someone really really awesome for her...  
  
_Oh, God. How long had she babbled at that nice lady...  
  
... with the _pretty necklace_?  
  
Oh no. Oh no, oh no, oh no...  
  
_It's not enough that he's a vampire, oh no, he's gotta... he just gets so much glee out of hurting things, y'know? It's sick. And gross. I wish he'd realize that living creatures aren't_ food,_ y'know?_ _He only respects life if he cares about the person, and he needs to respect _all_ life. Only... only maybe then, he wouldn't want to fight, and I kind of... well, I kind of like him all gleeful killer when we patrol. So maybe he could only be gleeful violence boy when we patrol, that would be okay, for demons and stuff and maybe really crappy humans...  
  
_Oh no. Oh no, oh no, oh no...  
  
_Living creatures aren't_ _food, y'know?_ Oh God, the vegan thing.  
  
_Only be gleeful violence boy when we patrol. _What Giles had said about Spike this afternoon...  
  
The bell rang and Buffy grabbed up her stuff, shoving it into her backpack, barrelling for the door and down the hallway, out into the night...  
  
Where Spike leaned against his bizarre automobile, pale again in the moonlight, his cheekbones vast hollows in the shadows on his face, twirling his car keys in his nimble fingers.  
  
"Spike," she gasped when she reached him, "I figured it out."  
  
He grinned. "See what happens when you go to class?"  
  
"No-no, that's not what I mean, I mean this... this reality. It's not real. Or it is, but... it's not _right_."  
  
Spike's hand flew to her forehead, his other hand grasping her around the wrist, and Buffy suddenly found it very hard to breathe.  
  
"You don't feel warm," he said, frowning.  
  
_Oh, but God, _you_ do...  
  
_"You're breathin' funny, though, kiddo," Spike continued. "Maybe you're not as fixed up as we thought. C'mon, I'll run you home, get you back into bed."  
  
She'd been so focused on the word 'bed' that the word 'kiddo' took a few seconds more to penetrate. Here she was, inches from his lips, essentially in his arms, her chest heaving, and all he seemed concerned about was whether or not she was running a temperature.  
  
And then... he ruffled her hair.  
  
Playful, sexless, big-brothery. She'd seen him do it to Dawn a hundred times.  
  
"C'mon, Buff, get in the car. We've got to hurry, okay?"  
  
He fastened her seatbelt for her, Buffy sucking in air through clenched teeth as his hand grazed across her stomach, the skin-warmed scent of him so much closer, his heartbeat in his throat mere inches from her lips and begging, begging, begging to be kissed...  
  
"Spike... you don't understand. This world... this isn't the way things should be. I think I made a wish to a vengeance demon last night!"  
  
"Buff, you couldn't _walk_ last night. You were _totally_ out of it. I tried to get you to eat some soup and you told me I was a 'soulless, evil thing'. You were completely sack o' hammers... you couldn't have made a wish to a vengeance demon if I'd trussed one up and brought her to you."  
  
"No, see... I forgot, but... there was a vengeance demon, I'm almost sure of it now. She had a necklace..."  
  
"I don't know what happened to you in Bizarro World, Buff, but Anya's not a demon anymore here. We'll get you back in bed, you'll feel better soon."  
  
"No, I don't want to go back to bed! I have to find the demon, make her undo it..."  
  
"Buffy... you're havin' Bizarro bleed-over. Anya was a vengeance demon, you had vengeance demons. Joyce had that tumor removed, you made it into something worse..."  
  
"Spike... this _isn't_ how things are supposed to be! You're a _vampire_!"  
  
He swerved suddenly, his jaw clenched. "I was a_ vampire_ in your other world?"  
  
"Well... yes... Spike, what's..."  
  
"I knew it," he hissed. "I bloody well _knew_ you blamed me!"  
  
"Blamed you?"  
  
"Oh, you'd never say it out loud, but I _knew_ it. No bloody wonder you made my girlfriend _gay_ in Bizarro World. And with _Willow_. That's a _nice _little poetic irony you've got goin' on there, Buffy, _kudos_."  
  
"You're... you're dating _Tara_?"  
  
"Let me guess. You _dusted_ me. Bet _that_ was a barrel o' laughs. Vengeance is sweet, eh? And I guess if I was a vampire, I wasn't in the family, right? No reason to feel guilty for hatin' me ever since..." Spike's voice broke.  
  
"Spike, I..."  
  
"Will you bloody well _stop calling me that_? What was that, my _vampire_ name? Well guess what, Precious, you're not _in_ your perfect fake world anymore. You're in this one. Deal with it."  
  
"That's what I'm telling you... um, William... this _isn't_ the real world..."  
  
"I'm gonna be late," Spike growled, his knuckles squeezed white on the steering wheel. "So your little delusions and you are just gonna have to come to the Bronze with me. And Buffy -- not one _word_ of this bullshit while we're there... he's bloody well been through enough. In fact -- don't talk _now_."  
  
And with that, Spike punched the power button on the CD player, turning the volume knob until the screams of Maynard James Keenan made conversation impossible.  
  
Spike refused to look at her, his fingers drumming on the doorframe, wrenching the Scout through the gears, whipping it into a parking space outside the Bronze with a scream of tires, yanking the key out of the ignition and charging into the club without looking back.  
  
What the hell?  
  
Buffy slowly unhooked her seatbelt, trying to make her mouth close. Why had he gotten so pissed off? I mean sure, vampireness, not so much of the flattering, but his reaction had been _way_ out there. And what did he mean, she blamed him? For what?  
  
"Buffy!"  
  
Buffy's head whipped up, a smile spreading across her face as Willow and Xander walked out to the car.  
  
"Hey, you're feeling better!" Willow cried.  
  
"Look at you, Little Miss Out-of-Bed," Xander grinned, offering his hand to help her out of the car.  
  
"It's good to see you guys," Buffy smiled, taking his hand and stepping onto the pavement.  
  
God, his hand was _cold_.  
  
Buffy's eyes widened, shooting up to Xander's face.  
  
Xander's pale, white face.


	4. Whatever You Wish For, You Keep

A/N: The song played by "Dingoes Ate My Baby" is an actual DAMB (well, Four Star Mary) song, used without permission because I am a horrible person.  
  
The "Lies My Parents Told Me" tie-in will come back up again, but if you want a clue -- remember who William wants to call when his mother is sick.  
  
_------------------------------------------  
  
I bloody well knew you blamed me!  
  
No reason to feel guilty for hatin' me ever since..._  
  
_You say demons are evil, and yet you don't have a problem around...  
  
_Oh, God.  
  
Xander, the Vampire. The Vampire Xander.  
  
"Buffy?" Xander asked, his eyebrows rising. "You okay?"  
  
_Not one word of this bullshit while we're there... he's bloody well been through enough._  
  
"Sure... sure, I'm fine." Buffy forced her mouth to do the smiling thing. "It's just... well... apparently that demon venomy stuff made me forget this world and think the other one was real. I'm... all amnesia-y and still adjusting. The other world was _really_ different."  
  
"Oh, really?" She had Willow by the curiousity now. "How so?"  
  
"Well... Giles and Mom weren't married, for one thing. So when I woke up, _major_ wiggins."  
  
"Don't feel bad, Buff," Xander laughed, sliding his arm around her waist. "It _still_ gives me the wiggins. Those are the sort of mental pictures from which six-figure therapy bills are made."  
  
"I can't imagine Giles having sex," Willow's nose wrinkled. "Do you think he polishes his glasses while he does it?"  
  
"Oh, sure, yeah," Xander laughed. "The pillow talk's gotta be great, too. 'Oh! Oh! Oh, this is bloody superb! Jolly good, Joyce, bloody splendid!'"  
  
"Faster, my crumpet!" Willow giggled.  
  
"Guys!" Buffy screeched. "That's my _mom_!"  
  
"Sorry, Buff." Xander gave her a playful squeeze. "We feel it's our sacred duty as your friends to deepen your mental scars."  
  
"Well, he _is_ related to Will," Willow grinned wickedly. "And from what _Tara_ tells me..."  
  
"Okay, stop that, stop that _right now_," Xander groaned. "Bad enough I live with the guy and have to hear the noises, I _so_ don't want them explained..."  
  
"Yeah, 'cause you and _Anya_ have taken that vow of celibacy..."  
  
"Uh-huh. Just like you and Oz. Little furry _monks_, the both of you."  
  
"Hey, at least we never hoodooed a whole house with our monkey-lovins, unlike certain Slayers I could name and their G.I. Joes..."  
  
Buffy very carefully kept her eyeballs inside her skull and her feet doing the walking. This was _normal_... so very, very normal, so much more normal than... well... normality. Walking into the Bronze, flanked by Xander and Willow, all playful teasing and camraderie... this was Old School Xander and Willow, Xander and Willow the way they _should_ be.  
  
Until she'd seen them like this, Buffy hadn't really realized how _wrong_ things had been before, how utterly uncomfortable they'd all been with each other, the constant tension, the looks over each other's heads, the brittle fragility of the Them.  
  
And how could this be so _right_... when Xander was a _vampire_, and the more steps she took between them, the more utterly convinced she was that Willow had become a werewolf?  
  
And Xander was so... well... _Xandery_...  
  
Suddenly, Willow's words returned to her mind: _It's horrible! That's me as a vampire? I'm so evil and… skanky. And I think I'm kinda gay.  
  
_And her own... _Willow, just remember, a vampire's personality has nothing to do with the person it was.  
  
_And Angel's..._ Well, actually...  
  
_She'd glared at him then, and he'd mumbled something like "That's a good point"...  
  
She suddenly, violently wished she'd let Angel finish his sentence, thinking of the all-too-human Willow she'd come to know later, Willow of the black eyes, Willow of the power trips, Willow of the most definite gayness...  
  
"Amnesia, huh?" Xander steered her towards a table. "So, any chance your evil twin's gonna show up, wreak havoc, get pregnant with a kid that magically ages twelve years after the birth?"  
  
"Oooh, after she gets kidnapped by by the evil witch who's secretly in love with her. Oh, and the baby has to be her brother's, only she doesn't know he's her brother 'cause their parents had a forbidden love..."  
  
"Hey, she gets pregnant by _her_ brother, you'll learn all about evil witches," Tara said playfully, raising her drink towards Buffy. "You're feeling better?"  
  
Buffy slid onto the stool next to her, reminding herself that it was not actually possible to pass out from weirdness. "I'm not 100%, but..."  
  
"Buffy's awake!" Anya beamed, setting a beer in front of Xander and screwing the top from her own. "I'm pleased, both for the improvement in your health and my sex life."  
  
To Buffy's amazement, Xander didn't flinch; he just gave Anya a fond kiss on the cheek. "Patrol goes a _lot_ faster with you around, Buff. Hey Red, tell her what we figured out, though."  
  
"We switched up the patrolling teams a little while you were out of it, Buffy. Did some strength-specific rearranging, y'know, for more well-rounded groups."  
  
Oh wow, how long had it been since she'd seen Willow's look-at-me-I'm-glowing-with-my-own-nerddom face?  
  
"We'll never admit it, but it was Jonathan and Andrew's idea," Xander stage-whispered. "This D&D thing about a balanced party."  
  
"Huh?" Buffy said sagely.  
  
"Y'know. In a party, you don't want, say, all warriors. You want a warrior, a mage, a cleric, a rogue... cover whatever gets thrown at you."  
  
"I meant, um... who's Andrew?"  
  
"Tucker's brother," the others said in unison. Apparently, they got asked this a lot.  
  
The soundsystem cut off mid-song, and Willow began clapping frantically... the others joining in.  
  
"What's going on?" Buffy asked.  
  
"Dingoes coming out," Xander whispered.  
  
Of course. Of _course_. _Oz_ hadn't left...  
  
Buffy's heart skipped a happy beat. She was gonna get to see Oz!  
  
And suddenly, there he was, walking out on stage, hair a violent shade of grape, shrugging into his guitar, starting the rather painful feedback loop that began this song, and oh, she had _liked_ this one...  
  
Buffy's face split into a grin as the feedback ended and Oz began to strum, his head bobbing ever so slightly to the music, his eyes meeting Willow's in the crowd, that little nod and smile...  
  
Oz! She'd _missed_ Oz. There was just something so _right_ about having him up there, his little movements becoming more pronounced as the drums kicked in, that blissed-out, bizarrely serene look on his face.  
  
_Feelin'...  
I've been lost for years...  
  
_Huh. Devon's voice had changed...  
  
No. No it hadn't. She_ knew_ that voice. _I died, so many years ago..._  
  
Oh, my God.  
  
_You can never understand me,  
Unless you've seen those tears..._  
  
She ripped her eyes away from Oz, sliding them over to Spike at the microphone.  
  
_But you never get to sleep when I'm away  
I don't mind the deeper that you lay...  
  
_Oh, wow. Just... wow. And... wow.  
  
Spike was playing a bass.  
  
No, no. Wrong verb. _Utterly_ wrong verb.  
  
Spike was _fucking_ a bass. Only way to describe it. There was something primal in the way he played, something completely and utterly _Spike_ in the way he played, something that took William and melted him away, leaving only the raw, demonic grace of Spike, Spike's hips grinding into the guitar, those beautiful fingers dancing over the strings, pressure and grace and precision and delicacy and rhythm, and God, there were so many sick fantasies suddenly popping into her brain at once that she could barely think around them, and...  
  
And Xander stood, holding his hand out to Anya, leading her out towards the dance floor.  
  
She'd been wrong. There _was_ something different about Xander. For one thing, he looked younger, slimmer, more like High School Xander than Construction Guy Xander, and that wasn't all, there was...  
  
Confidence. Maybe _that_ was it. The way Xander was whirling Anya in his arms, confident in his own strength and grace, confident in her desire for him, a crooked little smile on his face, somehow all adorable Xander but _infused_ with something, something that reminded her of Spike and Angel both at once with a funny little heart-tug...  
  
For that matter, when had Xander _ever_ touched her with the kind of casual ease with which he'd led her into the Bronze? He'd wrapped his arm around her like it belonged there, none of his normal bounce-and-wobble-and-worry, and she'd just accepted it, because _he'd_ accepted it...  
  
Buffy realized something that made her heart stop.  
  
_This_ Xander... she probably would have dated.  
  
Oh, God. She really _was_ a vampire groupie.  
  
Buffy looked at Xander, at Willow, at Spike... no, at _William_, with the potential of the Spike-he-could-become... and felt her brain dancing on the edge of a revelation she really, really didn't want.  
  
Xander and Anya swirled closer to each other, Anya's head tipped back to look up at him, a teasing smile of invitation on her face as Xander took her by the hips and pulled her closer...  
  
Before he stiffened, his eyes flashing amber, at something over Buffy's shoulder.  
  
"Buffy," Riley said softly, and Buffy whirled.  
  
Oh, God. He was here. Really here, and... reaching for her face, smoothing his thumb over her cheekbone.  
  
"Glad to see you're feeling better," Riley smiled.  
  
"Yeah! I'm... I'm all of the good. How are you?"  
  
God, did her voice sound that... _chirpy_... outside of her head?  
  
"Better now that I know you're okay." Riley took her hand, the slightest hint of reproach in his voice; he was her boyfriend after all, she probably should have called him...  
  
"You, uh, wanna dance?"  
  
He eyed her, searching for injuries. "You up for that?"  
  
She leaped up and pulled him onto the floor in response, letting her hips move to the music, ignoring the twinges from her still-sore ribs...  
  
And soaking up information.  
  
_Everyone_ had gone tense. Xander and Anya had left the dance floor, whispering to each other as they took their seats; Willow was hunched over defensively, shredding a paper napkin, biting her lip; Oz was painfully close to actually making a facial expression; Spike was no longer flowing to the beat, every part of him preturnaturally still except his fingers, and Tara -- wow, who knew one of _Tara's_ looks could kill?  
  
She knew this tension, knew this ice crawling up her spine; this was the Scoobies whenever she'd let Spike get too close, those hooded, fraternizing-with-the-enemy looks...  
  
For _Riley_. Not Spike, but _Riley_...?  
  
"You, uh, you wanna get out of here?" Riley whispered into her ear. "All the daggers being glared at me are starting to break the skin."  
  
"Um..." She really _didn't_, but... "Okay..."  
  
Tension visibly left Riley as they hit the night air, a sigh of relief escaping him.  
  
"That was... kinda intense," Buffy tried.  
  
Riley chuckled angrily. "They're never going to accept me as your boyfriend, are they?"  
  
"Well, they... you uh, you know how they are..."  
  
"Oh, I know how they are." Another angry chuckle; she'd forgotten Riley's tendency to wrap his rage in laughter. "You think they're _ever_ going to figure out that I am _not_ the Initiative?"  
  
"Well, you know..." Except that she didn't, and that was making this a really hard conversation to be in...  
  
"Nobody's sorrier than me for what happened to Will," Riley sighed. "But I wasn't a part of it. I didn't have anything to do with it. And it worked out in the end. So why can't they forgive me? Even after I rescued Oz... it was like it didn't matter..."  
  
"Well, the Initiative's... kinda scary..."  
  
"Why do you do it, Buffy?"  
  
"Do... what?"  
  
"Surround yourself with HST's. You're the _Vampire Slayer_, for God's sake... and yet here you are, with your... creature of the night harem."  
  
Buffy sighed. "Riley, maybe now would be a good time to mention that the, um, demon venom I was exposed to gave me total amnesia, huh?"  
  
"What?"  
  
"The demon venom. It made me, um, hallucinate this whole other world-thing and forget this one. So what you're talking about? Me, with the _no_ clue."  
  
"But... you were talking about the Initiative..."  
  
"Well... it was in the other world. Just... different. What happened to Will?"  
  
"Demon-induced amnesia, huh? That happened to Graham once."  
  
"Yeah, great. What happened to Will?"  
  
Riley sighed heavily, sitting down on a packing crate. "After we captured Hostile 17..."  
  
Buffy blinked. "Sp... _Will_ was still Hostile 17?"  
  
"Hostile 17 -- Alexander Harris," Riley clarified. "We weren't going to _hurt_ him, Buffy, we were merely going to implant a behavior modification chip in his brain. A very simple device, to keep him from harming humans..."  
  
"With blinding pain in his head?"  
  
"Uh... well, I don't know about _blinding_..."  
  
"Go ahead."  
  
"Anyway. We'd captured Hostile..." Riley looked at her face. "We'd captured Xander. And Will, he just... came out of nowhere, totally surprised Beta Team, he was like... and okay, I wasn't _on_ the team, I want you to _know_ that, this is all what Graham told me, but... he was like a... beserker. Just... crazy. Like... well, what Graham told me, it was _creepy_, it was like he was... happy. Grinning like crazy, all these guns pointed at him, it was like... like he was enjoying it."  
  
Buffy suppressed the smile that was threatening to spread across her face.  
  
"Anyway," Riley continued, "He broke Forrest's arm, got him to drop H... _Harris_, he was kicking guns out of the guys' hands, it was just... and then he did some kind of... well, Buffy, I have to guess it was a spell or a charm or an artifact or something, you know I don't really know about that stuff. Whatever it was, Beta team suddenly couldn't see Harris anymore. They radioed for backup, and Alpha team came in... with new orders from Walsh."  
  
"To take Will," Buffy whispered.  
  
"The thing is, Buffy, Walsh had been watching you for a while. Most of your... uh, people... were easily classified. You, the Slayer. Xander, the vampire. Willow and Oz, the werewolves. Y'know. Will was the X-factor. He _seemed_ human... but she thought no human could fight like that. Walsh wanted to... study him."  
  
Buffy's eyes narrowed. "You mean, she wanted to cut him into chunks and sew him into Adam."  
  
Riley deflated. "Pretty much. Yeah."  
  
"What did they do to him, Riley?"  
  
"I -- I don't know. And Buffy? I don't think you want to."  
  
The silence stretched out between them.  
  
"Riley?"  
  
"Uh-huh?"  
  
"Do you... do you know when Xander got turned? I... I don't think I can ask him."  
  
Another chuckle. "Yeah. Yeah, I guess you wouldn't want to."  
  
"What happened?"  
  
Riley ran his palms down his thighs, searching for the words. "They'd all gone bowling. Funny, huh? I mean, _bowling_. Big group thing. Oz, Willow, Xander, this girl Xander was dating named Cordelia... and Will and his girlfriend Faith."  
  
Buffy's jaw dropped, and Riley smiled a little. "Not to, uh, 'give you a wiggins', but Faith was actually a vampire slayer too. You guys were pretty close."  
  
"You've..." Buffy fought to keep the tremor out of her voice. "You've got... past-tense action there."  
  
"There was a vampire attack on the bowling alley," Riley said simply, looking up at the stars, avoiding her eyes. "Cordelia died, Faith died, Xander got turned. In all the... the chaos, Oz wolfed out. He bit Willow. Lots of other kids died. It was... it was a mess. Willow hasn't done magic since."  
  
"Wha... why? Why would... can werewolves not do magic?"  
  
"Uh..." Riley dragged the word out, a hesitant look on his face. "Willow... she... she'd done a spell. A... de-lusting spell. On her and Xander. It backfired... really badly. Drew the vampires to them. If Oz hadn't grabbed her, Willow probably would have been turned too. Besides, the ah, the effect the spell had on the people around them... it sort of... um. Sort of made everyone there... easy pickings... er. Preoccupied."  
  
_Bowling. De-lusting spell... oh, my God.  
  
_"He _saved_ them," Buffy laughed incredulously. "He accidentally _saved_ them..."  
  
"Huh? Buffy, who are you talking about?"  
  
"Spike. I mean, Will. It's... a delusion thing. Not... not important."  
  
"He _didn't_ save them, Buffy. That was... that was kind of the thing. Back then, Will and Faith were the only ones who really had the strength to fight... and, uh. They were. Um. Also _preoccupied_. In a bathroom. By the time they realized what was going on, it was too late for Xander and Willow, and then Faith died in the fight... Will's always blamed himself, and, uh... you've always kind of blamed him, too."  
  
"But... I mean... it was _Willow's_ fault, right? She did that spell..."  
  
"Didn't matter to Will. I mean, think about it, Buffy. He lost his girlfriend and watched his best friend get turned into a vampire."  
  
"But... I mean... I'm the _Slayer_, why wasn't I there? Why... why doesn't he blame _me_?"  
  
"I don't know, Buffy," Riley shrugged. "Maybe... maybe he does."


	5. Have Faith In Your Dreams

A/N: Lines borrowed from Episode 92, "Crush", and 110, "Wrecked", where appropriate.

* * *

"Buffy?"  
  
Buffy looked up to the doorway, where Tara stood, bathed in light. "We, um... we have a Scooby meeting in a few minutes. I was wondering if you wanted to walk with me."  
  
"Oh! Oh, sure, I..." Buffy swung her glance to Riley, whose disappointed face suggested that Scooby meetings were something to which he was Not Invited.  
  
"Thanks for the talk, Riley. I really appreciate it." She squeezed his hand. "I'll... well... you should call me!"  
  
"Duty calls," Riley smiled, standing and pulling her towards him. "I understand. I love you..."  
  
Oh, God, the synonym-for-goodbye "I love you", the one that meant that you said it to each other so often it had become a form of greeting, the kind that you really couldn't stop saying without having to Have A Talk later...  
  
"Love you, too," Buffy choked, giving him a kiss on the cheek.  
  
Pain flashed through Riley's eyes, and Buffy's stomach flipped. "I... Riley, things are weird, with the amnesia and the... the stuff..."  
  
"Sure. Good. I understand." The stiff upper lip from the brave little soldier.  
  
Tara to the rescue. "I bet you guys have a _lot_ to catch up on. And that's what this meeting's all about; getting Buffy's memory back... and the sooner we do _that_..."  
  
"Right. See you around, Buffy. Goodnight, Tara."  
  
Buffy waited until Riley was out of earshot. "But the band's not even done playing yet."  
  
"I thought maybe you and I could talk. There really is a Scooby meeting... just not for an hour or so."  
  
"Oh." Buffy silently fell into step alongside Tara, their shoes clicking in tandem on the sidewalk.  
  
"So," Tara smiled, "You weren't dating Riley in the world you remember."  
  
"Will told you?"  
  
"Will didn't need to. It was written all over your face -- and your aura."  
  
"Yeah... I wasn't. I mean, I _was_... but it was long over."  
  
"You were with Will, weren't you?" Tara asked quietly. "In the other world?"  
  
Buffy froze.  
  
"It's okay." Tara touched her shoulder. "I was kidding about that evil witch thing."  
  
"You're... you're not mad?"  
  
"That depends. He was _really_ tense when he got to the Bronze. Did you... try something?"  
  
"No! A _world_ of no. I told him what he was in the other world."  
  
"Your boyfriend?"  
  
"He wasn't my boyfriend. He was a vampire."  
  
Horror flared over Tara's face. "Oh. Oh. Y-yes, that _would_ have upset him."  
  
"Because of what happened to Xander."  
  
Tara nodded. "He told you?"  
  
"No, Riley did. Tara... why does everyone hate Riley so much?"  
  
"It's not that..." Tara broke off, biting her lip. "It's just really difficult to trust him. I mean... almost every one of us is considered a HST by the Initiative. I mean... you've got two werewolves, a vampire, a demon, an ex-demon... it makes us a little jittery, y'know?"  
  
"Who's the demon?"  
  
"Huh?"  
  
"You said two werewolves, a vampire, a demon, an ex-demon..."  
  
Tara laughed. "Oh, that's me. Was I not a demon in your hallucination?"  
  
"Oh! I know this one! You're not really a demon, Tara, your family just made you think you were! See, in the other world, Spike has a chip and he hits you and _proves_ you're not a demon..."  
  
Tara's eyes suddenly glittered, changing color to an iridescent green. Green streaked her hair and tinged her skin, her lips, cheeks and eyelids darkening with it. "Oh, really?"  
  
"Oh," Buffy said.  
  
The green melted away, leaving Tara looking normal again. "I guess the other world was a lot different."  
  
"I'm finding out more and more by the second," Buffy laughed weakly, following Tara around the corner. "Hey -- where are we going? This isn't the way to the Magic Box."  
  
"We don't meet at the Magic Box anymore. We have somewhere a lot more secure. You'll like it."  
  
Tara reached into her jeans pocket, pulling out a keyring... and rounding into the doorway of an upscale apartment complex, smiling at the doorman.  
  
"Miss MacLay, Miss Summers," the doorman nodded.  
  
Buffy halted at the sight of the opulent, art deco lobby. "What the...?"  
  
"Will inherited the penthouse from his mother," Tara said, steering her into an elevator and sticking her key into a lock inside. "It's great, a lot better than the Magic Box for meetings. The elevator won't go to the top without the key, it's twelve stories up, which takes care of a lot of the baddies-crashing-through-the-window, and... private residence, so no non-Xandery vampires."  
  
Tara smiled. "Plus, I've got it warded seven ways to Sunday."  
  
Buffy shook her head. "Sorry, it's just... in the world I remember, Will lives in a crypt."  
  
"Crypt, huh? Xander thought about getting one of those. Will insisted he come stay here, though. Will, Oz, and Xander all live here."  
  
"Oh, God... the bachelor pad? Decorated in Early American Pamela Anderson?"  
  
Tara grinned. "Not quite."  
  
The elevator doors opened, and Buffy followed Tara through a tiled foyer, smiling a little as Tara worked the locks on the huge mahogany double doors... then gasping in shock as Tara pulled them open.  
  
The apartment was _gorgeous_... masculine, clean-lined and welcoming, from gleaming hardwood floors to soaring ten-foot ceilings. Xander's beloved vintage horror-movie posters were framed in dark wood, their muted warm colors repeated throughout the room, glowing in the soft golden light from scattered mica lamps. Built-in mahogany shelving -- Buffy recognized the fine Harris craftsmanship -- ringed the huge living area, perfectly encasing tributes to the dichotomy that was their lives.  
  
Huge, we-are-boys-who-like-shiny-things flatscreen TV? Check.  
Assortment of scary-looking weapons? Check.  
Oz's vinyl collection of enormous size? Check.  
Hundreds of priceless, ancient manuscripts? Check.  
Playstation 2 and a ridiculous amount of games? Check.  
Relics, artifacts and Olaf the Troll God's Hammer? Check.  
  
There was an open kitchen to the right, full of gleaming kitchen appliances that probably did something kitcheny to do with food... a massive fireplace, fire laid but not lit; cream-colored candles artistically arranged... nice to see at least one thing about Spike hadn't changed. Everything clean, smelling faintly of wood soap, orange oil and cloves.  
  
It was like a library. But... a sexy library. A sexy, cozy, welcoming library that made you want to curl up in front of that fire and not move for a week or two.  
  
In the center of it all was a massive dining table with seating for twelve, piled high with books and scrolls.  
  
"The war room," Tara said with a smile.  
  
"No way," Buffy laughed. "No _way_ the boys live here. It's too clean."  
  
"You want the tour? Once you see their bedrooms, you'll believe they live here."  
  
Buffy wrinkled her nose. "Scary boy bathrooms?"  
  
"Okay, so maybe not the _full_ tour."  
  
Oz's room was as colorful as his hair, mismatched and charmingly messy, every square inch of wall covered in posters, flyers, photographs, and other odds and ends. Bright tie-dyed tapestries were draped from the ceiling, and the bureau mirror was a nest of little Oz-bits.  
  
Xander's room... oh God.  
  
"I don't even want to know about that bed, do I?" Buffy giggled.  
  
"Not if you want to keep your sanity and avoid the mental pictures of what he and Anya use it for," Tara smiled.  
  
Buffy's stomach rolled when Tara opened the last door. Oh, she knew whose room this was. An eye on Tara, Buffy willed herself not to gulp the air.  
  
More candles. Of course. Scattered persian rugs, the whole room a hedonistic symphony of color and texture; darkest brown, cream, black and blood-red, velvet and silk. Buffy found her eyes fixated on the bed, heavenly-looking pillows piled at the head of it, satin sheets peeking out from below a velvet duvet cover, imagining how it would feel to be dragged naked across all that skin-caressing softness, propelled by the cool, hard weight of Spike as he lay atop her, thrusting into her, sending her sinking ever deeper into that pile of pillows, his lips searing her neck...  
  
"You okay?" Tara asked.  
  
"Yeah, I... sorry, I was... this is really different."  
  
Only it wasn't. It reminded her of his crypt, that night he'd shown it to her...  
  
_You should see the downstairs, too, it's quite posh.  
  
_God, she... how weird was this? She _missed_ him. Spike. The real Spike. Annoying, incomprehensible, stupid old Spike. Only he hadn't seemed quite so stupid that night, wrapped in blue shadows, his eyes wide and appealing...  
  
_Dozens of times, lots of different ways ... every night I save you._

William was _better_, of course. Human. Had a soul. Everyone liked him. Didn't smoke or drink or bite people or gamble for kittens. Much better, much more acceptable... like... like low-fat ice cream. Y'know, cause it was bad to eat a whole pint of ice cream, but if anyone caught you doing it, you could say hey, it's okay, it's low-fat ice-cream. No need for the guilties. Know what I'm doing. Have a plan. It's low-fat.  
  
Except that the real stuff tasted better, of course. Decadent and sinful, creamy and sweet, sliding across your tongue and cooling your mouth, cold and delicious and...  
  
Okay, now she was just thinking about Spike again. What the hell was wrong with her?  
  
"Buffy...?"  
  
"Oh! Sorry, Tara, I was just..."  
  
_Fantasizing about having sex with the dangerous, leather-clad, vampire version of your boyfriend...  
_  
"... woolgathering. That's me; big with the shepherd. Baaa."  
  
"Right," Tara nodded, giving Buffy a strange look. "Well, I think I just heard the guys come in..."  
  
Faint voices from the main room, footsteps, and... _argh!_... there was Spike, coming into the hallway, pulling his shirt over his head... all sinewy and lean and muscle-definitioney and shiny-sweaty...  
  
Tara took a step towards him, and Spike stepped back with a smile, raising his hands defensively. "You do _not_ want the touch right now, love. Think they had heatlamps and humidifiers runnin' in there... I'm off for the shower."  
  
"Need your back washed?" Tara replied playfully.  
  
Spike grinned at her, his tongue running over his teeth. "Might be late for the meetin'..."  
  
"They'll survive."  
  
"'Spect they will," Spike's arm shot out, grabbing Tara by the wrist, swinging her up into his arms.  
  
"Eeew," Tara giggled, tracing his collarbone with a finger, "You're right, you're _all_ sweaty and yucky..."  
  
"Good thing you're about to shower," Spike replied, eyebrow soaring naughtily.  
  
"Good thing," she agreed, wrapping her arms around his neck and letting him carry her towards the bathroom.  
  
Buffy stood, frozen, watching as Spike carried Tara away, watching as they laughed at something too quiet to hear, watching as Spike kicked the bathroom door open, Tara's head leaning back with laughter as he twirled her through the doorway.  
  
Gross. Gross. _So _gross. So _insanely_ gross, so horribly wrong, so _utterly_ nasty... how dare he look like that at someone who wasn't her? That was his _her_ look, with the head-tilting and the tongue-maneuver, he was supposed to do that to _her_, and then she could punch him in the nose.  
  
In fact, she'd never wanted to punch him in the nose more.  
  
Punch him in the nose, grab him by the lapels of that stupid leather coat that he by-god _ought_ to be wearing, throw him into a wall, and kiss him until he screamed for mercy...  
  
"They're inspirational, aren't they?" Anya said from behind her.  
  
Buffy whirled. "Huh?"  
  
"Well, it's a well-known fact that in long-term relationships, the frequency of sex tends to dwindle. Will and Tara defy that statistic; I find it very heartening. Not to mention that Will has very well-sculpted abdominal muscles. Not that I'd trade; Xander gives me many mind-blowing orgasms a day. You know what they say; once you go vamp, you never go back."  
  
"I-is that what they say?" Buffy whispered, still staring at the bathroom door.  
  
"Oh, certainly. I know you're more of a slay 'em than lay 'em kind of girl, but vampires have many sexual advantages. The benefit of the stamina is obvious, of course. Not requiring oxygen is another. But did you know they can largely control their own blood flow? Goodbye, refractory period! It's fantastic. You should have Xander turn Riley. Many nights of orgasms await. Plus, it'd be funny."  
  
"Anya? Do you think if I drew you a picture of a necklace, you'd be able to determine if it was a vengeance demon's amulet?"  
  
"I don't know, Buffy. You're a really terrible artist. What did it look like?"  
  
"Um... round, kind of oval-y. Silver, maybe platinum? Had a blue stone in it... with little red fleckies."  
  
Anya's eyes flew wide. "You killed _Hallie_?"  
  
"No! I didn't kill her. I think I... I think I made a wish to her."  
  
"What did you wish for?"  
  
"That's the thing. I'm not exactly sure. I remember some of what I said, but... well... I was kind of drunk."  
  
Anya laughed, shaking her head. "Hallie. She doesn't change. Loves the drunk ones. So, who'd you eviscerate?"  
  
"I didn't... well, it looks like people died because of it, but I didn't _mean_ to kill anyone... I wasn't mad at anyone in particular... well, I guess I was mad at Spike... I mean, Will... I was more sort of, um, generalized whining... and then when I woke up, everything was different."  
  
"Ohhh," Anya nodded knowingly. "Alternate universe. Back in the day, I was _so_ good at those..."  
  
"Like the one you did for Cordelia."  
  
"Cordelia? Oh, Xander's dead ex? I did a vengeance wish for her in alterna-world? Was it cool? I was _really_ good at those. Always exactly what the person asked for, in a way that _totally_ screwed them over... ooh, is that what happened to you?"  
  
"Sort of. Kind of. I mean, some things are great here. And some things are worse..."  
  
"That's Hallie. She likes the moral dilemma. Big knife-twister. Me, I'm more of a straightforward girl. So, I guess that demon venom was a built-in cover story?" Anya smiled nostalgically. "She does beautiful work."  
  
"So... how do I get her to undo it?"  
  
"Do you _want_ her to undo it?"  
  
"I... well... I... this isn't real. That has to be _wrong..._ right?"  
  
Anya shrugged. "It's real now. And let me tell you, getting a vengeance demon to undo a wish... not pleasant."  
  
"But it can be done?"  
  
"It depends. We're not supposed to do it. The occasional exception can be made. The bigger the change, though, the bigger the consequences. To turn back a big enough spell, the demon has to sacrifice herself, body and soul. And let me tell you, I know Hallie. She will _not_ be up for that."  
  
Anya patted her on the head. "Look, hon, the best thing you can do is just suck it up and learn to live in this world. Like you said, a lot of things are great here. So, yay! You got your wish! Enjoy it!"  
  
"Anya... don't tell them."  
  
"Buffy, everyone in that room is about to waste hours, and probably weeks or months, researching a way to get your memory back. You owe them the truth."  
  
"That this world isn't real? That _they're_ not real? That they're all really different people?"  
  
"Honey... this world _is_ real now. The one that you remember... it might as well be a hallucination. Wave bye-bye to it. This is reality. And when everyone knows what really happened, they can help you adjust to it. C'mon."  
  
Anya hauled Buffy by the elbow into the main room, Buffy blinking in shock at the number of people. Since when did Mom come to Scooby meetings? Or Dawn? Or... Jonathan Levinson? Or that geeky-looking little blonde guy with him?  
  
"Everyone!" Anya called. "You can put the boring books down now. The mystery of Buffy's memory loss has been solved!"  
  
Giles removed his glasses bemusedly. "Is that so?"  
  
"She made a wish to Halfrek, a vengeance demon. The whole Glarghk Guhl Kashma'nik thing was a cover story Halfrek built into the wish to cover Buffy's confusion. Buffy's 'delusion' _was_ the real world... well, until yesterday. So we'll never get Buffy's memory back. It's not there to get. So, no need to research. But I think we should still order pizza."  
  
"Good lord," Giles gasped. "Buffy, is this true?"  
  
Buffy shrank into herself under the weight of the eyes upon her. "I... I think so. Anya recognized the pendant on the woman I talked to at the bar. I never meant for this to happen... I thought she was just a really good listener..."  
  
"What did you wish for, specifically?"  
  
"I... I can't remember. I was drunk. I was just... I was just complaining about life in general."  
  
"So the other world was worse?" Xander asked.  
  
"In some ways. We were all... everyone was kind of miserable. You knew it, Xander, more than anyone, you've always seen more than anyone... you'd just summoned this musical demon to try and cheer us all up... only we just all ended up telling the truth, and it made everything worse... and then Willow tried to fix it by erasing our memories..."  
  
She stared at the sea of shocked faces, gulping. "The thing was... in the other world... I died. And you guys... mostly Willow... brought me back from the dead. You guys thought I'd been sucked into some hell dimension, like Angel... but... I was in heaven. I was happy. So... so happy."  
  
She took a deep breath, steeling herself. "And when I got back, I hated it. Everything was... compared to the heaven I'd just been in... the real world was hell. And Mom was dead and Giles left and there were all these financial problems and pressure and stress and full copper re-pipe and something was messing with me and everyone was fighting and I... I didn't want to be there, I tried to let the musical demon burn me up, but Spike... Will... wouldn't let me kill myself... and nothing made sense and I..."  
  
"Honey," Joyce murmured, rising to wrap Buffy in her arms, "It's okay, you don't have to talk about all of it now, it's okay..."  
  
"I missed you so much," Buffy gasped, tears stinging her eyes. "Mom, I missed you so much..."  
  
Joyce stroked her hair. "Honey, it's okay. Whatever happened in that other world... it hasn't happened here."  
  
"Kinda does sound like you traded up, Buff," Oz said.  
  
"That's what I said," Anya beamed.  
  
"Have you indeed 'traded up', Buffy?" Giles asked quietly. "You certainly don't seem as happy as someone would who'd suddenly been given her fondest wishes."  
  
"Things I changed... had consequences," Buffy said.  
  
"Such as?"  
  
"In the other world... Will wasn't your son. He was a Master Vampire named Spike, over a century old."  
  
"You're kidding," Xander said uncomfortably.  
  
"I'm not. He was one-fourth of the Scourge of Europe. And not having him around... changed history. How much, I don't know yet. But I think... I think it might have been a lot."  
  
"Spike... prevented a lot of things from happening. Some stuff I know about. There's probably more I don't. There's no telling how much has changed."  
  
Giles was polishing his glasses with a vengeance. "So... William was a good vampire? Like Xander?"  
  
"Uh... that's... well, most of the good stuff he did, he did by accident. Like saving Angel by killing that Slayer. He _hated_ Angel. He just liked to kill Slayers. That was kind of his. Um. Thing. And he saved Xander and Willow because he kidnapped them."  
  
"So I was an _evil_ Master Vampire. The Big Bad."  
  
Buffy whirled. Spike leaned against the wall, wet from the shower, glaring.  
  
"Well, you... you did a lot of good..."  
  
"By _accident_."  
  
"Not all of it! Once you got the chip in your head, you... well, actually, it was later, 'cause you tried to get Adam to kill all of us..."  
  
Xander leapt to his feet. "Will wouldn't _do_ that! He's the one who figured out how to _stop_ Adam!"  
  
"Honey," Anya said consolingly, "Didn't you hear her? He wasn't Will, he was a ruthless, evil killing machine."  
  
Spike startled, and Anya pasted on a smile. "Not that there's anything wrong with that."  
  
"Perhaps we should adjourn the meeting," Giles said nervously. "Tempers are running high, and really, this information is irrelevant now..."  
  
"No, Dad," Spike said, pushing himself off the wall and advancing on Buffy. "Let's hear it. Let's hear about all the innocent people I killed and the evil I did. Don't I have a right to know who I really am?"  
  
"Will..." Tara pleaded, reaching for his arm. Spike shrugged her off.  
  
"C'mon, Buffy," he growled. "Let it out. Tell everyone how evil I am. You've been wanting to tell everyone for years. Let's hear it."  
  
"Will, honey..." Joyce begged. "We know you. We _love_ you. It doesn't matter."  
  
Spike spun on his heel, grabbing his jacket. "I'm takin' a walk."  
  
"Son..." Giles began.  
  
"Not now, Dad."  
  
The massive double-doors slammed behind him.  
  
"What was that? Why would you do that?" Xander cried, so angry that the eyes that met Buffy's were nearly yellow. "Why in the _hell_ would you tell him that stuff? Did you just want to hurt him?"  
  
"Jeez, Buffy," Willow added, frowning. "Rip out hearts much?"  
  
"She was just being honest..." Anya tried.  
  
"There is a difference between honesty and cruelty, Anya," Giles said. "Really, Buffy. Whatever William did in the other world... here, he is your brother, who cares for you."  
  
"That was kinda cold," Oz murmured. "Guy's been through a lot."  
  
Buffy looked from face to disapproving face. "I... but... you all _hate_ Spike..."  
  
"Gotta say, Buff," Xander spat, "He's really not the one I'm feeling the hate for at the moment."  
  
"Y'know, maybe it _was_ a delusion," Willow said angrily. "You've always been jealous of Will. So you make a fantasy world where everybody hates him. It kinda makes sense."  
  
"What? I'm not _jealous_..."  
  
"Buffy, I don't think you're being entirely honest with yourself," Giles said.  
  
"I'm not _jealous_! Why would I be _jealous_? I'm the freakin' Chosen One!"  
  
"And you never let us forget it, do you?" Xander spat.  
  
"_What_?"  
  
"Do you think I don't know how you look at me?" Xander cried. "Like you're always wondering if I'm up to something evil? You think I've forgotten how you tried to stake me? If Will hadn't stopped you, I'd be _dust_ now."  
  
"And what about me, huh?" Willow pointed her finger around the table. "What about all of us? How do you think it makes us feel when you're _sleeping_ with a member of a shadow organization that thinks we're all _freaks_, huh? That wants to put mind-control devices in our heads? That tries to kidnap us? And you think we should just _take it_ because we're not human? What's so freakin' great about being human that makes you_ better_ than us?"  
  
"Yeah," Xander added bitterly. "We're lower than you until you want our help, and then it's Scooby Freaks to the rescue. You know, Will's more human than you are, and he never looked down on us."  
  
"I don't look down on you! And you guys _are_ both human! It's just this _wish_..."  
  
"Oh, did you hear that, Willow? We're both human in the other world! I bet Buffy saved us from our _horrible fates_ and got lots of glory. Oh, wait, who was that? Glory? The evil hellgod who wanted to kill Dawn? But oh no,_ Buffy_ couldn't kill her human host, _Buffy's_ too sainted to kill humans, so once again, Will had to do her dirty work, and once again, he got crapped all over for it!"  
  
"That's not what happened! I died in Dawn's place!"  
  
"Oh, how _noble_," Xander sneered. "The untouchable white princess getting her martyr on. And then we brought you back from the dead, I heard that part. Ripped you out of heaven, poor little you."  
  
"Xander, that's quite enough," Giles snapped. "Insulting Buffy isn't going to make Will feel any better."  
  
"Oh, well maybe we should go get him so he can hear more stories about how evil he is! 'Cause everybody knows, vampires are _all_ the evil undead!"  
  
"Or maybe Buffy could go talk to him," Oz said. "She was talking about him in the present tense. That means she didn't dust him. That means he wasn't all bad."  
  
"He wasn't," Buffy said. "He really wasn't..."  
  
"Not the one you need to tell that," Oz replied, jerking his head towards the door.

* * *

"Will!" Buffy cried, racing down the street. "Will, please stop!"  
  
Spike continued walking, hands shoved in his pockets, head down.  
  
"Will, c'mon! I need to talk to you! I want to apologize!"  
  
She put on a burst of Slayer speed, grabbing his arm and throwing him into a wall. Will bounced, his head cracking against the brick.  
  
He brought his hand up, rubbing the back of his skull. "Yep. Feels _just_ like a Buffy apology."  
  
"You want to know about the Big Bad vampire you were, Will?"  
  
"Can't say as I do," he muttered, trying to walk away.  
  
She pushed him back again. "You want to know how much I miss him? How he saved my life? Saved the world? How he always had my back? How seeing you is killing me because you're _not_ him? How he was the only one I could talk to, the only one who understood me, the only one who let me just... _be_... when I came back from the dead?"  
  
Spike blinked, crossing his arms. "Go on."  
  
"He was my protector. And Dawn's. And yeah, he was evil, but... he was _trying_ to be good. Trying really hard. For me. Because he loved me. He loved me _so_ much, in his own... weird way. The things he went through for me, they were... amazing. And I... I cared about him. I cared about him a lot. I just... do you realize _why_ you are the way you are? Human? Giles' son? Apparently the most beloved member of the Scooby Gang, as big of a freak-out as that is?"  
  
Spike shook his head, looking at her intently.  
  
"Because part of me... I wanted to able to be with him. That's how this whole stupid wish got started. Because I cared about him, I... I wanted him, and everything between us was always _wrong_ because he was a vampire and I was the Slayer. I wanted him... you... him... whatever... to be _easier_."  
  
Spike tipped his head, regarding her solemnly. "You were... what, in love with him?"  
  
"No. I wasn't... I wasn't in love. I cared, though, I... I couldn't_ let_ myself be in love with him, because of what he _was_. It would have been wrong. If he'd had a soul... if he'd been human... anyone else who did those things for me, anyone else who was... like he was... I probably _would_ have been in love with him."  
  
Buffy took a deep breath. "I could be in love with you. I think... I think I _am_ in..."  
  
"Don't," Spike's face contorted in disgust. "Don't say it."  
  
"Oh, come on, Will... we need to talk..."  
  
"We don't need to do anythin'! Okay, there is no _we_! Understand?"  
  
"Will... the whole point of this whole _world_... the reason it exists... was for us to be together."  
  
"Oh... oh no. Are you _out_ of your bloody _mind_?"  
  
"Look, it's not so unusual! We're not related by blood! Feelings develop!"  
  
"No! No, no, feelings do not develop. No feelings!"  
  
"You're him. He's you! You can't deny it. There's something between us."  
  
"Please! Buffy, you're my _little sister_."  
  
"Your _stepsister_!"  
  
"God, like _that_ matters?" Spike backed away from her, hands raised. "Look, Buffy. I'm sorry things weren't _easy_ enough for you in whatever world you came from. But I love Tara."  
  
"You love Tara because of a wish I made! I wished she'd find someone nice! These feelings you think you're having for Tara... they're not_ real_."  
  
"They're real to me," Spike said quietly.  
  
"She can't... look, I love Tara too. Not that way. But Spike, she's _gay_. It's who she really is. You need to let her be who she really is!"  
  
"And why won't you let me be who I really am?"  
  
"I'm trying! This isn't you! You don't hang with the Scoobies! You _hate_ the Scoobies! You sit in your crypt and you watch _Passions_ and you drink blood and you play kitten poker and you follow me around..."  
  
"So you want me to be a lonely, friendless soap opera addict puppyvamp for you to kick about? Honey, I'm _touched_."  
  
"Spike... you _love_ me."  
  
"As a little sister, _yeah_. And bloody well stop calling me 'Spike'."  
  
"I just..." A tear rolled down Buffy's cheek. "I miss Spike. I want to talk to Spike."  
  
"Well, Slayer, whoever he was, you wished him into oblivion. You made this world... and now you've got to lie in it."  
  
"See? Mixing the metaphors... he always did that... you're so close to what he was, Will... and I look at you, and I see _him_..."  
  
"I'm _not him_. Look, sorry n' all that you lost your vampy _boytoy_ that wore my face... but I'm your _brother_. It's all I'll ever be. I belong to Tara... and that's just the way it is."  
  
"She can't... she's _Tara_, Will. She can't be your equal. Not like I can. She can't understand you, what drives you, like I can. She can't hold her own with you like I do. It's part of what you _like_ about me, the Slayer thing. Slayers get you hot."  
  
"_A_ Slayer got me hot," Spike growled. "_One_. But she's gone. You're just..."  
  
"Just... what?"  
  
"God, why am I even... what _is_ this? What do you want me to do here, Buffy? Pretend I'm not in love with Tara? Pretend I'm not your brother? Let Xander _vamp_ me so I'm the right bloody temperature? Nothin's going to get you what you want. And need I remind you that you have a boyfriend, who despite bein' a horrid git loves you more than life itself?"  
  
"Riley," Buffy whispered.  
  
"And that would be his name. Look, go dunk him in an ice bath and take your sick fantasies out on him. I'm gonna go home and... scrub my brain or somethin'."  
  
"Will... can we at least... can we at least be friends? We were friends in the other world, and I miss it... I really miss it, I don't know if I can make it here without you..."  
  
Spike deflated. "Buffy, I'm sorry. But every time I look at you... all I can see is Faith. I try to let her go, try to get past it, I think I've done a pretty good job, but... it hurts. She was the first person I ever loved, and..."  
  
Buffy seized his left hand, holding it up to the streetlight. "What... what is this?"  
  
"Claddagh ring," Spike shrugged. "Faith gave it to me. The, uh, hands are for friendship, the crown is for..."  
  
"I know," Buffy whispered. "I know what everything means."  
  
Spike tore his hand back from hers. "Then why'd you bloody ask?"  
  
"Will..."

"Buffy." Spike took a deep breath, his jaw clenching. "Thank you for the apology, such as it was. But... you'll get over this. You _have_ to get over this. Move on already."  
  
And he turned away from her, walking down the street, disappearing into the shadows.  
  
_That's a good-looking piece of man you just kicked in the tenders... want to talk about it?  
  
_Oh, no. No, no. She didn't want to remember this _now_...

* * *

_   
  
Buffy staggers back to the bar, her eyes deliberately not on Spike as he tries to stalk out of the Bronze with some dignity intact. She throws herself onto a barstool, orders a rum and coke, and notices that the brunette next to her is watching her... an intense, calculating look on her face that quickly dissolves into a friendly smile.  
  
"That's a good-looking piece of man you just kicked in the tenders," the brunette smiles, watching Spike's pained retreat. "Want to talk about it?"  
  
"Nothing to talk about," Buffy grimaces. "He's just a big bleachy pain in my ass."  
  
"You two seemed cozy earlier."  
  
"I had a bad day. I had a bad week. I've had a bad resurrection. Where's my drink?"  
  
"Friend of yours?"  
  
"Not a friend. A stalker. An evil, creepy stalker. Everything would just be so much easier if he didn't love me."  
  
"Is that what you want?" the woman replies, her smile widening.  
  
"I don't understand him. He makes no sense to me. No. Sense. Maybe if I understood him, knew how he felt, what it was like to be him... then maybe..."  
  
"That's not difficult to accomplish."  
  
"Oh, you don't know him."  
  
The brunette titters. "Well, actually..."_

* * *

Buffy sank to the sidewalk. Oh, God.  
  
_Everything would just be so much easier if he didn't love me..._  
  
Faith. Angel.  
  
Tara. Riley.  
  
That ring...  
  
_Maybe if I understood him, knew how he felt, what it was like to be him...  
  
_Oh, God.


End file.
